


;;--> you called for help...

by Black



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Depression, Fluff, Gore, Healthy Relationships, Multi, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6326212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black/pseuds/Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~> a collection of Undertale Ficlets that are a mix of Fluff and Horror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Im staying home

**Author's Note:**

> // because I can't stand the sound of another heartbeat in the room. 
> 
> *vauge cannibalism??  
> *body horror  
> *biting
> 
> When Sans deviates.
> 
> Next chapter is probably gonna be fluff. I just needed to vent write.

he’s alone.  
as he should be.  
he deserves this.  
he deserves this for just standing around and  
watching.

watching.  
waiting.

body tucked tight against a tree trunk as he watched his brother’s head cleaved clean off. the snow crunching as he shifted, sockets lidded apathetically. he no longer felt the ice in his bones. the first few times were horrifying - the first few times he fell into a heap and wheezed as he tried, oh god he tried to scrape himself up and all the pieces he had shattered into.

he had watched Undyne too after becoming numb to Papyrus,  
watched her melt into nothing, bones and skin  
seeping. into rock. her laugh and smile,  
all teeth and _determination_.

the ketchup came up the first time.

sometimes he caught Alphys before she evacuated and sometimes he didn’t.  
he always felt sick at the sight of her crying, claws curled against the monitor of her computer as she screamed at the loss of her never-lover.

 _it’s okay_ he wanted to say _sometimes it turns out better than this_.

and oh - Mettaton.  
he was the hardest to stomach.

Sans could never bring himself to watch the actual explosion but oh the bits and pieces.  
an eye here.  
an arm there.  
jaw.  
chest.  
empty soul container,  
burnt sugar sweet and half melted into the tile flooring.

so he starts to deviate.  
he tries.  
to alter to change but it always ends up the same.

  
his sockets flicker black and he’s lingering, a ghost in the judgement hall. blood in his teeth (just kidding, it’s ketchup. haha. funny joke right?). he’s been here before.

he’ll be here again.

this is the fourteenth time they’ve lost to him and it’s starting to wear him down again. each load saps his energy and nestles in his joints. their eyes are furrowed in anger and determination and Sans’ teeth are crooked in the same old smile.

his bones find their stomach and push through, twist. arched through their soul, crunched into the floor in some screaming heap. the skin pops and separates and Sans - the anger comes quick. it simmers heavy and hot and he flexes his fingers, watching as another large bone spears their hand onto the tile. keeps it there.

“i’ve got to hand it to you kiddo,” the white in his sockets flicker back into focus, the tweeting of the gaster blaster nearby almost drowning him out, “almost got me. what about lucky number fifteen?”

through the back and up through the ribcage - the snap of bones is satisfying and the blaster’s mouth creaks open, the whistle of energy sailing past him. it swallows them whole - he can’t even hear the scream this time.

so they load again and his joints ache.

“again?”

he opens his mouth to bare his teeth, anxiety and anger mingling in the blue of his eye burning bright. they attack. and this time they’re persistent. in and out back and forth and they’re lurching at him when exhaustion starts to barrage him.

the knife glints past him and - he does the only thing he thinks will help: deviates.

Sans grabs their arm and his teeth meet skin and they’re screeching.  
eyes wild in pain.  
his sockets are black but they’re focused on them - he bites down harder and the blood rivets down his chin and soaks into his shirt. it bubbles bright over their skin and seeps into the joints of his knuckles and fingers hold them firm.

they’re panicking.

trying to jerk their arm away and Sans holds tight; there’s blood on the tile seeping into the grout and their HP is draining fast. the knife clatters. their free hand tries to find purchase on his skull and their fingers rake at his sockets his teeth his everything and he refuses to unhinge.  
and there it is - darkness and then another reload.

“sixteen,” he announces as they stumble back in, “ _jaw dropping_ performance kid, you loaded that save file by the _skin_ of your teeth.” they look vaguely unsettled, fingers crawling against the sleeve of their sweater as if haunted by the feeling.

he picks at the fuzz on the inside of his hoodie pockets - anxiously.  
shaking as he bares his teeth in the empty hall in their direction, “i barely had a taste,” he runs his tongue over his canines, the blue of it matching his eye, “figuring out you’ve bitten off more than you can chew?”

they remain silent, poised elegantly,  
knife in hand,  
legs trembling just barely-

but he notices.

“maybe sixteen will be your lucky number,” he shrugs and a blaster whistles to life next to him, it’s dead eyes trained on their tiny form.

he presses a bone finger in front of his teeth,  
as if telling a secret.

“but i think seventeen is _much_ luckier.”

the stained glass blows out with the force of the energy released.

**G A M E  O V E R**

_but you have to stay determined, right?_


	2. I'm the fear that keeps you awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~> I'm the shadows on the wall  
> ~> I'm the monsters they become  
> ~> I'm the nightmare in your skull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i lied the next isn't fluff.  
> i wrote this awhile ago.
> 
> *Human Sans  
> *Body Horror  
> *My Love for Error!Snas

something isn’t right.

when Sans steps into the hole, the loop, he’s greeted with a promise of white. yawning over the land, blanketing everything he can see. it hadn’t been this way a moment ago - it had looked like Snowdin from the outside. he had seen trees. houses.

something isn’t right.

there’s bits and pieces stuck together.  
coding.  
aching, glitching. fizzling to life but biting at the air. over and over and over again.

“ _what’s a matter_ **_darling_ **?” the voice is sharp and sudden, and there’s a feeling that floods him at the last word spoken. adoration? a hint, a flutter of momentary relief? but then he’s cold with horror at the hand that creeps up the back of his neck, “ _d_ i _d’ja miss me_?”

there’s a hot pain through the back of his leg and it buckles, it’s red against white and he bares his teeth and he’s clawing at his own skin. own skin.

it’s him. it’s him - but there’s flesh peeled back there’s black and white and red and there’s no focus. it’s hair is mussed and wild, skin peeled from bone and it’s been cleaved off in chunks. it’s chin is bloodied - Sans can see the skeletal outline of teeth and he’s nearly horrified.

“ _to **Error** is human after all _ ,” it smiles and the pain in his leg explodes. he’s never genuinely screamed before - but when it leaves his lips he barely recognizes the sound. it breaks the quiet and whatever is impaling him pushes in further. a little deeper. his eyes flicker down and he sees it then

a bone - split and broken - made it’s home through skin and he’s screaming again as another pins him down by the shoulders. his blue hoodie is plush with blood and his tongue is heavy and his growls rattle behind his teeth.

“ _red was always your color_.”

those strings oh god those strings wind into every folds dip joint creasing and pull tight. Sans feels exposed. his eye flickers blue and there’s a clatter and there’s teeth and the jaw of his gaster blaster snaps open and there’s a tweeting. a whistling. the fluttering of wings -- beating. beating.

and then a crunch.

oh - all his energy leaves him. exhaustion washes in as quick as the fight had come to him. he watches as another blaster, a bigger one. black with rot. spindled with numbers and gore, chunks of meat still clinging to it’s jaws...he watches those teeth enclose around his own.

it’s eyes widen before they’re crushed under the strain. the bone shatters and wisps away into dust and he’s left wounded and alone. not even Gaster can reach him here, the sinking feeling in his gut decrees.

“ _we’re going to have so much fun together_ ,” it holds his chin - it’s fingers are ice on him. he curls his own into his palms and pulls at the strings - they worry into his skin like wire. he can feel the wetness. he doesn’t look.

the laughter is mangled.  
glitched.  
torn apart.

hands rest on his cheeks and he closes his eyes,  
teeth grinding together

and those nails bite deep.

he doesn’t look.


	3. what did you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh  
> Sans came back for a piece tonight and i have no fucking idea why. i'm not sure this will be updated again but sometimes he blips in for writing here and there. 
> 
> is Undertale still even relevant 
> 
> anyways, some sans vs gaster. It's short bc he got the hell right outta there.

Sans hits the ground and rolls. 

His slippers catch but he doesn’t, stuttering on a beat before he’s wheezing and trying to scrabble at the space of a thousand numbers on a thousand planes of existence within his little game and 

Gaster is moving in fast. Swimming through data through fracture through fiction and oh Asgore –

One of his blasters catches him and he clings to it tiredly, his fingers grinding against the top of his head as he bounces off and catches stances again. Wheezing as he slumps forward. His smile is static but his bones are shaking. 

The black heap of data garbles near excitedly, pooling in on itself before stuttering up to something vaguely human. Its face shudders into existence and it shrieks out a laugh in a thousand different voices. Its body writhes. Seeping off in chunks of a tendriled mess. They creep away like disease. 

“Gaster,” his voice is too loud too loud too loud and it’s echoing in his skull and bouncing, bouncing, 

Layered and layered and 

“What’d they do to you?” He sounds horrified, “What did  **you** do?”

The scientist’s head snaps to the side with a rattle and discordant chatter – something seeps out past his eye. Something seeps out past his lips. Something seeps out past

…

His blaster to the right trembles with the twittering of a loaded attack, the smaller to his left beginning to build too. Sans stares, socket blue. Alight. Burning like the first time they forced it in like the first time they –

Like the first time he –

The world around them is falling apart. This is the end. Snowdin is collapsing under the weight of itself and monsters are screaming. They don’t understand. You don’t understand. 

I don’t understand. 

Please understand. 

Sans loses himself as the energy screeches past him, hoodie flagging gently with the force as he watches. It swallows his former mentor and he thinks he may be shaking. Or maybe that’s just the ground. But the words are steady and his soul is screaming in his chest. 

Guardian, oh guardian. 

Where have you gone? 

He thinks he can hear something in the distance. A wayward scratching. Caught in the back of his head. The skulls beside him snap shut and he shivers, the snow pixelating as he seeps through the holes in the ground. Dissipating. Heaps of data holed hollow. 

Please. 

Believe me. 

I never wanted this.


End file.
